


The Owl and the Albatross

by cornelius



Series: Xanadu [2]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornelius/pseuds/cornelius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah made a deal a year ago to save Toby. Jareth has come to collect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A cold wind blew in, turning the soft tinkling melody of the windchimes into a raucous metallic clang. The wind shook the thinnest branches of the ash tree and disturbed the raindrops grown fat on its purple-red leaves. The heavy droplets thumped on the veranda roof, interrupting the otherwise steady rhythm of light rainfall. 

Sarah sat on the porch swing of her childhood home, one socked foot dangling to push gently on the old boards of the porch, the other tucked under an old log cabin quilt. The wind reached a chilled hand under the blanket and gripped her.

She shivered.

An owl screeched somewhere far away. Sarah sat perfectly still, waiting for the owl to find her—just as she had every other time she’d heard that almost human-sounding screech.

When she was much younger, Sarah’d discovered Edith Hamilton in the things her mother’d left behind. That summer, she had biked down to the library to read book after book on owls, entranced by their association with Athena and wisdom. Then, owls had been wise and mysterious hunters, a worthy motif to decorate her backpack and high tops and silver spray-painted cardboard cuirass.

Now, the screech of an owl paralyzed her with anxiety. 

A full five minutes passed before she relaxed—it was just a false alarm after all. She snuggled back down under her blanket, making sure to tuck the edges in in case of another strong gust, and picked up the lesson plan she’d been working on.

The last time an introductory survey to English poetry had been taught, the professor had come back from fall break with _The Goblin Market_ by Christina Rossetti. The poem was a staple of these sorts of classes, but the thought of discussing siblings enticed by exotic goblin goods and eating enchanted fruit hit a little too close to home.

She closed her eyes. 

Biting into the flesh of the peach had been like popping one of Jareth’s bubbles—as her teeth broke the skin, magic filled her mind. She could still taste it, it’s sweetness blooming like a flower on her tongue while tiny metallic sparks made her teeth hurt. 

She wondered if Toby’s milk or honey dew had had the same crackling aftertaste.

The thud and squelch of muddy sneakers made Sarah turn her head. There was Toby, home from school and soaked to the bone.

“Forget your umbrella?” She asked innocently, but a smile played on her lips. He just rolled his eyes and walked into the house after kicking off his shoes. His backpack hit the foyer floor with a wet smack and then the front door slammed shut.

It had been almost a year and she still hadn’t told him about Jareth, or the woman, or the deals struck to get him back. The words sat on her lips waiting to be said, but there never seemed to be a right time to say them. 

And he still wouldn’t talk to her about where he’d been—though, it’s not like he had any reason to think she’d believe him. If she’d ask, he would say _it wasn’t what I thought it would be_ , before dropping the subject and sulking away.

Sarah sighed. Maybe it _was_ time to finally tell Toby the truth. Before his visit to the fairy realm, he had been a bright and happy child—eager to learn, confident in his knowledge of the world—and he’d laughed at all of Sarah’s jokes, even the terrible ones. Now, he was distant and moody, sulky and prone to long bouts of not talking to anyone. Her dad and stepmom dismissed it as typical teenage behavior, but Sarah couldn’t rule out the possibility that his adventure with fairies had changed him, and not for the better.

She came out of her trip to the Underground with friends to support her and a new sense of responsibility. What did Toby bring back with him? Doubt? Uncertainty? A sense of isolation? A feeling that no one would ever understand what he’d been through?

Sarah bit her lip. She should have said something sooner.

Light rain turned to a downpour and an owl screeched again—this time, much closer to the house. Sarah put her lesson plan away and pulled the quilt off her legs, before walking over to the porch railing and searching for the owl in the cloudy grey sky. 

The afternoon sun tried to shine through the thick clouds, but it just made the world look eerie and grey and little less real than before. 

The owl screeched a third time, a deafening cry of alarm and pain. She instinctively put her hands on her ears, but it did nothing to stop the sound that seemed to ring inside Sarah’s head.

“What is that?” Toby shouted, running back onto the porch in a dry t-shirt and jeans, his hands also over his ears. 

Sarah turned to answer him, but before she could say anything, a loud, sharp crack from the ash tree stole her attention. One of the great boughs hung limply from the trunk, a small strip of bark the only remaining connection. The newly exposed golden wood looked like an oozing yellow scar in the strange grey light and falling rain.

A crash in the highest part of canopy sent a small object toppling through the branches and dying leaves, before it fell the final few feet to the wet ground. It landed with a sickening pop, followed by a surprisingly human groan.

Sarah was halfway to the body before she realized she’d left the safety of the veranda without an umbrella or raincoat, or even shoes. The rain seeped through her socks, stealing the warmth and feeling from her toes, and her wet hair obscured her vision, but she kept running.

Some part of her brain registered that Toby was yelling for her from the porch steps. His arms were wrapped around his torso, but he didn’t dare step out into the cold and the rain. 

The body—the man—crouched on his hands and knees shakily, one arm bent oddly under him. She tried to get a good look at it, but that side was angled away from her. Was it broken? Was that the pop she heard?

The man’s head whipped up and mismatched eyes met hers. He looked like a feral beast: hair matted and plastered to his head, clothes ripped and bloody, and every breath sounded like a low growl.

“You owe me a favor, Sarah Williams,” Jareth the Goblin King said between ragged breaths, “and I’ve come to collect.”

As soon as the words were out, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he collapsed on the front lawn.


	2. Chapter 2

Sarah was soaked through. Her fingers and toes were numb from the cold, but a different kind of numbness took over the rest of her body.

This couldn’t be Jareth—it _could not_ be the Goblin King. He’d appeared to her twice before in storms far worse than this one, and he’d been untouched by rain or wind. The man in front of her was as soaked as she was, injured and broken and _bleeding_. And maybe _dead_.

She squatted down next to him, and put a trembling hand between his shoulderblades. Did he even need to breathe? His chest rose and fell unevenly, but that small movement helped to calm her racing heart. 

“Sarah!” Toby shouted as he ran to her. She stood up and grabbed his arms as soon as he was close enough to touch, but Toby looked at Jareth. His skin was ice under her hands but his breath was warm—it was enough to anchor her. He was real and she was real and the rain pouring down on them was _real_. She looked over her shoulder at Jareth. He must be real, too.

Toby, now a few inches taller than her, looked down at her worried and confused. “Are you okay?”

“Help me get him inside,” Sarah said instead of an answer. Her throat rasped as if she was shouting, but the words sounded like a whisper to her. Toby nodded and gently pried Sarah’s fingers loose. 

Alarm bells went off in her head. Any other person would refuse, would insist on calling 911.

Instead, Toby just helped her turn Jareth onto his back without another word, his mouth set in a hard line. As they picked him up, Toby at Jareth’s shoulders and Sarah at his feet, Sarah thought she caught flashes of anger in Toby’s cool blue eyes.

“You know him,” Sarah said as they maneuvered Jareth’s body up the steps to the front door. It wasn’t a question.

“I think you do too,” he said, and his tone was so cold, Sarah barely recognized the voice as Toby’s.

They didn’t say much more as they moved Jareth, except to agree to take him up to Sarah’s old room. Once he was laid out on her bed, Toby slammed the door and rounded on her.

“What the fuck is going on?!” His face was curled and snarled in anger, but his eyes showed nothing but hurt. Guilt spread through her veins like wildfire—she really should have told him the truth long ago.

But her guilt was quickly replaced by hopelessness and confusion. Jareth had come to get his favor from her but what could she do for him now? And how did this happen?

“Sarah! Answer me!”

“I don’t know!” she shouted back and Toby flinched. She dropped her head in her freezing hands and spoke again, a little softer this time, “I don’t know. I—”

Her voice wobbled so she bit her lip. She hoped it would be enough to keep all her warring emotions from spilling out. She turned away from Toby—she couldn’t look at him. She was supposed to keep him safe from all of this Goblin King business, and she’d pulled him right back in all over again. 

She looked up at him and under Toby’s anger, she recognized her own hopelessness was in his eyes. Neither of them was equipped to deal with a dying fairy.

The glass of her mirror winked at her as she turned her head, and suddenly she knew what to do. 

She leapt to the mirror and shouted, “Hoggle! Ludo! Sir Didymus!”

Sarah gripped the edges of her desk, the sharp sides digging into her palms. She searched the frame, trying to catch even the smallest glimpse of one of her friends, but all she saw was Jareth breathing unsteadily on her bed, and Toby looking at her like she’d lost her mind.

“What are you—”

“Shh,” she said and he frowned at her. “Hoggle! Ludo!” she tried again, her voice cracking on the last syllable. She rested her head on the cool surface of the mirror. This was her last hope. If she couldn’t get one of her friends, she didn’t know what she could do for Jareth. What would happen in he died? Was he even capable of dying? Or would he just writhe in pain on her bed for all eternity, begging for a death that would never come?

She took in a deep breath to fight off the rising hysteria. She had to stay calm. “Sir Didymus,” she said with a confidence she barely felt. The background hum of the central heat cut out and the strange feeling of being watched tickled the back of her neck. “I need you!”

“Milday!" Sir Didymus shouted, and the sound of steel on steel carried with his voice. He appeared just over her shoulder, attired in full plate armor—as was Ambrosis—though it was marred with cuts and scratches and unmistakable stains of blood. She looked over her shoulder, but he didn’t materialize in her room. 

“Didymus, what’s going on?”

He raised his bushy dog-like brows in confusion. “Has His Majesty not told you?”

“Something’s wrong with him,” she moved so he could see Jareth on the bed, “And I don’t know what to do.”

Toby leaned over Jareth’s body and pulled back the cut in his sleeve. Sarah winced as the sleeve dragged wetly against his skin. “There’s an arrow in his arm. Should I take it out?”

Sir Didymus balked. “No! It could be spelled or poisoned!” He put his thumb and forefinger on his chin in a cartoonish thoughtful gesture—Sarah would have laughed under less dire circumstances.

“Those uncouth ruffians must’ve caught his wing in flight,” he said more to himself than Sarah or Toby. “They must be guarding the way out of this world.”

Sarah heard a far off scuffle and then Sir Didymus turned to shout something over his shoulder. “I fear I must return to battle, milady. There’s an incursion on our western border—the terms of our treaty have been quite _rudely_ violated. I will contact you as soon as I know how to help His Majesty. Tally Ho!”

Sarah looked blankly at the mirror as Didymus charged to somewhere behind the frame. She met Toby’s eyes in the mirror. What had she gotten them caught up in?

“So, now what?” Toby asked petulantly, “We just wait here until your weird dog friend gets back to us?

She turned in her chair to look at him. “Yes,” she said icily.

“What about mom and dad?” 

Sarah chewed her lip thoughtfully. She was only home for the long weekend, and she’d been looking forward to spending time with her dad. But she couldn’t leave Jareth alone in case Didymus came back. Or something much worse happened.

“I guess,” she sighed, “tell them I’m sick and I need to be left alone.” She’d been looking forward to spending time with her family. Toby frowned, but nodded. 

“I’m going to change— _again_ ,” he said, “and then I’ll come back and keep you company until they get home.”

He gave her a half-hearted hug, and she startled him by jumping up and gripping him tight. 

“But,” he said as he pulled away from her, “mom and dad won’t get home for a few more hours. You’re gonna tell me the whole story—like how you know him.” Toby pointed an accusatory finger at Jareth.

“Okay,” she agreed and shook his hand. He rolled his eyes, but his grip was firm, his hand bigger than she remembered it being. He wasn’t her little brother anymore—gone was the thoughtful little boy, replaced by an angry but practical young man.

With one last pointed look at Jareth, Toby left to find dry clothes. 

Sarah looked down at her own sopping ensemble, as she finally started to feel the weight of her dark sweater leaden with rain. 

Jareth was unconscious, but she still turned her back to him as she peeled off her sweater and quickly swapped it for an old Rush concert tee. She peeked over her shoulder as she rolled off her jeans, the simple task made more difficult by the way the wet denim clung to her skin. 

As she pulled on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms, she almost expected to catch his eye in her mirror as he grinned triumphantly at her. As embarrassing as that would be, she almost preferred it to their current situation. He had always liked catching her off guard ...

Toby knocked and entered shortly after she traded her wet socks for the warmest, thickest pair she could find in the last few clothes that had never been moved out of her childhood bedroom. Toby handed her a bath towel and he sat on the floor, his back to the bedroom door.

“So,” he prompted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Where to start? She took her time sitting down cross legged on the floor and used drying her hair to stall as long as possible. It wasn’t as long as she would have liked.

“When I was fifteen, I wished that the Goblin King would come and take you away. I regretted that wish almost immediately, so Jareth—” Sarah looked at Jareth, who stirred at the mention of his name, “gave me thirteen hours to run his labyrinth. I made it to the center, with the help of my friends, and I defeated him.”

There was more to the story, but she didn’t know how to explain the parts she didn’t understand. Like how Jareth found her and Toby, and got that red-leather bound book to her in the first place. Or how much Jareth knew about her infrequent, but continued contact with the residents of his labyrinth. Or how often in the past sixteen years she’d heard a barn owl screech in the night or felt eyes on her back and wondered if it was Jareth.

Or how she still dreamed about dancing in his arms. 

Toby furrowed his brows and hummed thoughtfully. His silence unnerved her.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked cautiously.

He shook his head. “Not really. I’m just trying to make sense of things. It seems impossible, but I started to dream about the Goblin King’s castle a few years ago. I remembered seeing him, and watching you run through a maze in a bubble. I thought I was crazy at the time, but now—” he shook his head again, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“And have you think your sister’d gone off the deep end?” She plucked at a loose thread on the hem of her pants. “I thought you were _so young_ you wouldn’t remember. And I’ve always felt so guilty for wishing you away. I _thought_ you’d be furious.”

“I might’ve been once—if you’d’ve told me sooner—but I get why you didn’t. When the woman started showing up in my dreams, I wanted to tell you _so bad_ , but I thought you’d just tell mom and dad, and have me locked up.”

They smiled at each other, the first real smile they’d shared in over a year. Sarah felt a connection to Toby that she hadn’t felt since she was fifteen and found him back in his crib after the Labyrinth. Now they both knew that they’d shared an experience, and the kind of experience most other people never even _dream_ could happen.

Sarah felt a jolt like a static shock. “Wait—You dreamt of her?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. Sarah looked at him confused and he continued, “It wasn’t like that with you?”

“No, I got a book—he sent me a book,” Sarah said, a new fear rising in her, “You didn’t get a book?”

He shook his head no.

“I saw it, though,” she said, furrowing her brows in concentration, “In your dream there was a red book that looked just like mine, except it was called _Xanadu_.”

“I don’t remember a book,” he said, his voice shaking, “You were in my dream?”

“I don’t know how I got there.” The details of the dream were hazy, more solid than many dreams, but just as hard to put the pieces together before they slipped through her fingers. “I … I met the woman, and Jareth found us. We made a deal and then I woke up. By that time, you were home.”

“So, you and him—” Toby looked at Jareth, “you saved me? What did you give up?” Sarah started to protest but Toby cut her off, “A deal requires compromises on both sides, and if you think you could convince me that a _fairy_ deal didn’t involve some sacrifice—”

“Yes, fine. I promised Jareth a favor if he’d negotiate a treaty …” Sarah trailed off.

“The treaty!” they both shouted at the same time.

“Could it be the same one?” Toby asked while Sarah just looked at him, dumbfounded.

“Milady!” Sir Didymus’ voice joined theirs, and then only his face was visible in the bottom right corner of the mirror. “The arrow head is only iron—of course to His Majesty it is a most foul poison indeed—but thou should be able to remove it without harming thyself. I have sent you a salve prepared by the castle physician, since I fear traveling there myself, which should be applied daily to the wound itself. As soon as the arrow head is out, though, his body will do much of the work to repair itself. I would tend to His Majesty myself if I weren’t so needed here defending the kingdom. Onward to victory!”

“Wait! Didymus!” Sarah called, but he was already gone as Toby asked to the air, “What about the treaty?” 

He picked up the salve from where it appeared on one of the shelves next to Sarah’s bed. He turned the small jar over in his hands, reading the label and instructions for use on one side.

Toby looked from the salve to Jareth with a grim frown. “Sarah,” Toby said, “Do you know how to safely remove an arrow?”


	3. Chapter 3

Thirty minutes of intense Googling and one _interesting_ call to a trauma center later, they figured their best course of action was push it the rest of the way through his arm. The arrow had nearly gone straight through his arm anyway—probably since he’d been hit as bird in flight—and didn’t seem to have hit or been embedded in the bone.

Once they had decided on a plan, Sarah had raided every bathroom in the house for whatever bandages, old towels and gloves were available. They didn’t have a sterile operating room, but they hoped Jareth’s magic would be enough to stave off infection. And it wasn’t like they had many other options.

After setting up their supplies the best they could and getting Jareth in the best position, one good push was all it took to dislodge the dangerous arrow head from Jareth’s body. The sound of piercing flesh and sight of an arrow sticking out both sides of Jareth’s arm sent Sarah running for the bathroom. By the time she was back, Toby had used the hedge trimmers she’d wiped down with rubbing alcohol to remove the head from the shaft. With one final pull on the shaft, the arrow was free. 

As soon as the arrow was out, the inflammation around the wound immediately lessened. Jareth’s face, which had been pale and drawn in silent pain, relaxed into something more like annoying discomfort. He also bled a lot less than Sarah was expecting. She didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

They slathered his arm with salve and Toby made makeshift dressings while Sarah showed him a YouTube video on how to dress and cover traumatic wounds. 

Jareth slept on as they cleaned up what could be salvaged and threw whatever couldn’t into black trash bags. They’d thrown away most of his shirt, so Sarah covered him with an old crochet afghan when he started shivering. Toby rinsed out the towels and put them in the washing machine while Sarah watched Jareth sleep. He was calmer than before, but his his fingers twitched from time to time as his eyes darted widely under his eyelids. 

Sarah kneeled next to the bed and crossed her arms on the edge. Jareth’s hand rested near her, his long, slender fingers ending in finely manicured nails, and his pale skin smooth and soft. It was a sharp contrast to her own cracked knuckles, calluses from places her pen rested against her hand, and chipped nail polish on most fingers. His blood also still stained her nail beds and under her fingernails, but she didn’t have the energy to get up and clean her hands.

The longer she kneeled next to him, the heavier her eyelids felt. She could just reach Jareth without moving her arms, so she touched his cold hand with hers. Eyes closed, she mapped the lines of his palm with barely there touches as her head drooped and fell to rest on her crossed arms.

“Jareth,” she said sleepily and his hand twitched, “What do you dream about?"

###

_Footsteps echoed in her ears. She wasn’t sure if they were hers or someone else’s, but she couldn’t worry about someone else right now—she had to keep climbing. She walked up step after step as the stairs spiraled up a stone tower. On the other side of thick walls, waves crashed in a muted, distant susurrus. An albatross chirped and clacked and honked somewhere below her._

_She stopped for a moment at a window, and looked out at a great wall cloud in the distance. Did a storm pass? Or was it still coming?_

_Sarah turned away from the sky and she climbed until the stairs stopped at a landing. A large oaken door filled her vision, the boards warped by water and the metal hinges corroded by salt. She could almost see through the cracks to the other side. Maybe if she just looked closer …_

“Sarah!”

Sarah startled from her dream. A series of uneven sharp knocks sounded on her door and her father called again. “Sarah, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Sarah said reflexively, then remembered the story she and Toby had agreed to tell. “I mean,” she said, trying to sound feeble, “For being sick.”

She cringed at her response and was glad her father was still on the other side of the door. 

_The other side of the door!_ She’d been looking for something in her dream. She could almost see a woman ...

“We got you some saltines and ginger ale,” her dad said and the dream slipped away, “I’ll leave them outside your door. Don’t want the whole house to get sick!”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Dad.” She hoped the sarcasm didn’t carry through the door. She dropped her head back on the bed with a groan.

“You do shout an awful lot in this house.” 

Sarah jumped at the sound of Jareth’s voice. He peered through one eye, just cracked open enough to look at her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, “I would offer you an Advil, but I don’t really know what your body would do with ibuprofen.”

He shook his head, a small barely-there gesture that Sarah almost missed.

“I am healing,” he said, “Though next time I need medical attention, I would prefer you find a more experienced surgeon.” His lips twisted up in the tiniest of smiles and she let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

“Yeah well, taking you to an ER would have been just as bad,” Sarah said with a grin, “I can just see it—‘Excuse me, I need you to see to this guy who just fell out of my tree with an arrow wound. Oh and by the way, he’s a fairy king.’—That would’ve gone over real well.”

“You could have _lied_.” Jareth grunted as he shifted in the bed, propping himself up slightly on the pillows. Sarah went to him, helping him arrange her pillows as he tried to get comfortable. She put a hand on his arm and he hissed.

Fresh blood stained the dressing and she jumped up to get the medical supplies. He grabbed her wrist firmly and she sunk back down to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Sarah.” His voice held a gentle reproach. There was something about the way he always said her name—like the rustle of tall grass in a summer breeze or the steady roar of a distant waterfall. She shivered.

“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” He cut her off. He didn’t let go of her wrist. “I’ll be fine in a day or so. I just need some rest to let my magic do its work.”

She shook her head as she pulled her wrist loose and held it close to her chest. “I mean I’m sorry for all of this. You’re injured because of me—because of what I asked of you to save Toby.”

“Sarah,” he said her name again—the soft static and crackle of a hearth fire. “None of this is your doing.”

“But if _I_ hadn’t—”

“Now Sarah,” he said with a wicked smile, “There you go again thinking the world revolves around you.”

The rebuke in his tone stung, and a protest came quick to her tongue. But before she could disagree, he brought up one hand to cover his mouth as he yawned. The movement was so delicate and poised—so _Jareth_ —it almost made her forget he was uncharacteristically yawning. He continued speaking as if the yawn never happened. “She would have found another way if she couldn’t’ve used you and your brother. She is patient. She knows when to strike. And she has had many plans in motion for a long time.”

“And she’ll kill you.”

“Yes,” he said, “If she thinks she has to.”

“Who _is_ she?”

“There’s the Sarah I know,” he said with a smile, “How is it that you always have ask every _wrong_ question before getting to the right one?”

Sarah scoffed. She crossed her arms and as soon as she did it, she knew it was a childish move. 

“Well, who is she?” she asked, ignoring his comment.

“It hardly matters now,” he sighed, “I’m tired.” He yawned again and closed his eyes.

She frowned at his evasive answer. “It matters to me,” she said, but he was already asleep. 

Sarah’s stomach growled and suddenly Jareth mattered a lot less than the room temperature ginger ale and saltines just outside her room. She cracked open the door as quietly as possible—cringing when the hinges squeaked—and grabbed the supplies her father’d brought her. Under the plastic shopping bag was her lesson plan, which she’d left on the porch in a rush to get Jareth inside. 

She pulled everything into the room and shut the door with a soft thud. The hours slipped away from her as she munched on the crackers and read the stapled articles of literary criticism on _Goblin Market_ to the tune of Jareth’s sleeping noises.

Jareth snored loudly at one point and Sarah chuckled to herself. He had always been imposing and distant and _perfect_ in his own alien way. She’d never imagined him _snoring_ of all things, but since falling out of the sky, he seemed a lot more _human_ than before. The elements didn’t bend to his whim like before. He bled, he hurt, he yawned, he _snored_.

A discreet knock on her door pulled her attention from Jareth. Toby pushed open the door slowly, whispering as he entered, “Mom and dad are asleep. Any change?”

“He woke up for a few minutes before falling back asleep,” she whispered back. She turning in her desk chair to look at him, resting one arm on the backrest as she moved.

“Did he say why he came here? Or the treaty?”

She shook her head. “He just said he’s healing, and he should be better soon.”

Toby looked at Jareth, who was already starting to regain his health and unnatural glow, like he was torn between punching him and hugging him. 

“Why us?” he whispered and Sarah nearly mistook it for the whistle of the wind outside her window.

“What?”

“Why did any of this happen to us? Why did _he_ pick us?” Toby’s voice grew in volume, and he spat out the last words.

“I know some of it,” Sarah confessed, “But maybe we should talk tomorrow.”

Toby shook his head dangerously, and Sarah wondered if she needed to remove any possible projectiles from Toby’s vicinity. She stood up and crossed the room to him. She put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched in surprise.

“I wanna think that this is _his_ problem and all of this—the dreams I had, the war or whatever is happening Underground, you running the Labyrinth—is because he gave you that book in the first place.” Toby’s voice wobbled as he spoke, “But I can’t stop asking myself, ‘Is this my fault?’”

He looked at her plaintively and Sarah’s heart broke. She shook her head as she gathered him up in her arms.

“No, Toby,” she said with conviction. “None of this …” she paused, “None of this is your doing.” Those had been Jareth’s words to her. 

“Then what’s _wrong_ with me? Why do these things keep happening?” he cried and she held him like she hadn’t held him since he was a small child. She murmured assurances into his hair and rubbed his back. She gave him all the comfort she had to give, but each sob was like an arrow through her heart. She’s his big sister; she should have protected him better.

“Are you gonna be able to sleep?” he asked once he’d calmed down. He wiped his eyes the way only a teenage boy could—as if by acting tough after crying, he could erase the event from everyone’s memories.

“I’ll be fine on the floor,” she said, pretending to rub her eye as she wiped away a tear.

He rolled his eyes at her. “I’ll get my camping mat and sleeping bag.”

Sarah looked at Jareth on her bed, nested in her many pillows. Toby was halfway out the door as she called to him. “And maybe a pillow, too?”


	4. Chapter 4

_The albatross cawed from the top of the tower._

_Sarah climbed the stone steps, the endless spiral staircase she’d always climbed. Her legs burned, but the feeling was more something she knew she should feel than something she actually felt. She nearly slipped on something once, but she only spared the small red leather-bound book a passing glance as she kept climbing. She wanted to go back for it, thought about turning around with each step, but she couldn’t stop her upward climb._

_Finally, the stone steps gave way to a landing ending in an old oaken door. She remembered this door. Is this what she had been climbing for?_

_There was no handle, only old boards held together with rusty nails and corroded hinges, so she leaned down and looked through one of the holes in the door._

_“It would be easier if you just gave up,” a woman said, “I’m tired of all of this fighting nonsense.”_

_A man spoke the woman’s name in a weary sigh, but as soon as Sarah heard it, she forgot it._

_“I can give you what you want …” she cajoled._

_“There’s nothing you can give me that’s worth my kingdom.”_

_The voices were familiar, but the faces were completely unknown. She_ knew _she knew these people, but she couldn’t say how._

 _“Jareth be_ sensible _!” Sarah could just make out the woman’s face, contorted with rage. “Everyone knows about your little soft spot. Let me take the Labyrinth off your hands and you can go run off with your precious_ humans _!”_

_“And then what would happen to my subjects?”_

_She scoffed. “Get off your high horse. We all know you_ loathe _the goblins as much as the rest of us and—_

_“Sarah, that’s enough,” a voice over Sarah’s shoulder said. It was familiar, but a different familiar from the voices on the other side of the door. “It’s time to go.”_

_Sarah listened harder to the voices on the other side of the door, hoping for_ something _before ..._

_“Sarah,” it said reproachfully, and Sarah turned to look at the voice._

Sarah woke with a start. Her heart raced as she stared at the ceiling and tried to remember the face that went with that final voice. She couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that she knew the person who spoke to her. The sensible part of her brain wanted to explain that dreams were just her brain’s way of processing the day’s events and of course she knew the voice—she’d heard it earlier that day.

But she knew this dream was different. She really had been at the tower, and so had the woman, and so had Jareth.

_Jareth!_

She looked over at her bed, and Jareth sat on the edge, hale and healthy as the day they’d met. He adjusted one knee-high leather boot as he glowed in the early morning sunlight, peering at her through long lashes. 

“Are you ready to give me what I came here for?” He purred his question, making it sound much more sensual than intended. At least, she hoped he hadn’t intended it that way.

“Um, I guess?” she replied as she sat up. She pulled up one corner of the sleeping bag to cover her chest, blushing as she remembered taking off her bra just before going to sleep. 

“‘Um I guess?’” he mimicked her tone and Sarah frowned, all embarrassment gone. “You’re not really instilling confidence.”

“I don’t really have a choice here,” she spat at him, “And I still don’t know what you want.”

“Sarah, you always have a choice,” he said with a sincerity in his words she’d rarely heard from him. He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. His eyes were so open and honest, but even if she’d studied him for a thousand years, she wasn’t sure she could really figure out everything in that one look. All she could identify was something weary in his eyes that made her feel bad for losing her temper. 

An apology sat on her lips, but he looked away and the spell was broken.

“Anyway,” he said standing up in one graceful motion to look out her window, “all I want is the book I gave you.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He didn’t look at her.

“Why?” she asked, stumbling to stand as her feet got tangled in her sleeping bag. She walked over to where he stood by the window, but he still stared at the sunrise as it just started to peek over the tops of houses.

“Because you owe me a favor and I asked for it.”

“No, I mean, why the book?”

He sighed. She knew she wasn’t owed an answer, but she knew there had to be a catch—it _couldn’t_ be that simple.

“The book is a link to the Labyrinth,” he said, finally tearing his eyes away from the suburban view, “I shored up the borders of my kingdom, but she started exploiting the ways in from your world. The book is the last crack she can crawl through.”

They were standing so close now, and she could feel the warmth radiating off him. When he moved, she could smell something both rich and earthy, and sharp and metallic; she supposed that it was the smell of his magic.

“Why did you let me keep it?” she asked, a little dazed from his close proximity. Her heart beat faster in her chest, imagining him proclaiming that he did it for love. She felt like a silly teenager with a crush.

 _Do you even_ want _that, Sarah?_ she asked herself. When she was fifteen, thinking she had the love of a powerful fae was heady and terrifying. Now, all she could think was practicalities. _Where would we even live?_

“One small link usually doesn’t make any difference,” he said and her mind snapped back to the conversation at hand. “The barrier between the fairy realm and the human world is porous—at any one time, there are thousands of little doorways between the two worlds. Once this channel is closed and secure, our forces will be able to fight her off and the fae court will see to her punishment.”

“Okay,” she said. She walked over to her desk and pulled open the top drawer. Just where she’d left it laid the small red book, untouched since she’d put it there after her trip through the Labyrinth. She picked it up reverently and held it out to him.

“Here, then take it and finish her off.”

He made no move to take the book from her. “You should say goodbye to your friends before you hand this over. Without the book in your possession, you won’t be able to contact them—,” he paused, weighing his words, “or _me_.”

She chewed her lip and nodded thoughtfully. Jareth said she had a choice, but it was obvious to her that there was only one course of action. She would sacrifice her contact with the fairy world to save a kingdom. She felt guilty again for not keeping in touch with Hoggle or Ludo or Didymus as she should have. And as Jareth watched her think it over, she felt almost sad to lose him, too. 

She remembered the conversation at the top of the tower from her dream—had it been Jareth and the woman? And what had she meant by _soft spot_?

“I think I saw you and the woman in a tower,” Sarah said, bringing the book to Jareth. 

He gave her a questioning look, but he didn’t deny it. “Tell me, how is it that you always seem to find your way into places you shouldn’t be?”

She shrugged in answer. She honestly didn’t know how she’d gotten to the tower.

“But,” Sarah continued, steering the conversation away from Jareth’s question, “She wanted to make an exchange for the Labyrinth. What did she offer you?”

“My dreams,” he said simply.

With that answer, she handed him the book, still a million questions waiting to be asked, but she’d made up her mind about it. There wasn’t time for long goodbyes as her friends fought and sacrificed—as _Jareth_ sacrificed his dreams—for a war that was most likely her fault. 

His fingers had just barely touched the cover when a voice from Sarah’s mirror startled them both.

“Sarah!” Hoggle shouted and Sarah turned toward her mirror. She saw Jareth put a hand on his hip in annoyance, but she ignored his impatience.

“Hoggle!” she said, “What’s going on?”

He was out of breath and he glanced over his shoulder nervously. “I don’t have much time—” Sarah heard a clatter from somewhere far away followed by an angry shout. “Keep Jareth safe. The kingdom has fallen.”


	5. Chapter 5

Hoggle was gone, but Sarah stared at the mirror in shock. 

_The kingdom has fallen_. How could it have _fallen?_ They’d been so close—

Jareth radiated cool fury as he stood in the middle of her room staring off somewhere in the distance. She could tell by the way he tapped his fingers against his thigh that he was planning something, some way to take his kingdom back. 

She just had to do something with him in the meantime.

 _Keep Jareth safe_ , Hoggle’d said. She didn’t know the first thing about keeping him safe. She could barely take care of herself—what was she supposed to do with _him_?

“Jareth,” she said and he didn’t react. She sighed and walked into his line of sight. She tried again, “ _Jareth._ ”

He looked through her and a panic rose in her chest. She _needed_ him to help her—she couldn’t do it on her own.

“Jareth, _please_.”

His attention snapped to her and she breathed a momentary sigh of relief. “We can’t stay here,” he said, “Her forces will have figured out where I am by now, and it’s not safe for you, or your family to stay here. We’ll also need to find a place to hide the book. It will not only allow them to find us, but if they control that portal, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find a way back to my kingdom.”

Sarah’s heart sank. So much for that feeling of relief. 

“What am I supposed to tell my family?” she asked, “Pretend there’s a gas leak in my room?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know what that means, and I see no reason why you can’t tell them the truth.”

A hysterical laughter bubbled up and out of her. “Oh no reason at all. They won’t think I’m completely off my rocker or anything.” 

Sarah dropped her head in her hands and groaned. _Think Sarah, think!_

An all-expenses paid trip as a contest prize might work—Sarah’s dad loved getting things for free. But her stepmom tended to mistrust anything that seemed too good to be true. Plus, it’s not like she could afford something like that.

She could try to convince them to stay with her in Buffalo for a week. But it was in the middle of the school year and Sarah’s stepmom would _never_ let Toby miss school for frivolous reasons.

Maybe if the house had termites …

“Jareth, do you still have access to your magic? Or was that tied to the Labyrinth?”

He frowned. “I still have my innate magic.”

“Can you give this house a termite infestation?” she asked. 

Jareth thought for a second and opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by three quick raps on the door.

“Sarah, open this door immediately,” her stepmom called from the other side of the door.

“Uhh,” Sarah hesitated and looked around for a place to hide Jareth. “One second!” she called back.

“You will let me in right this second young lady. Toby is with me and I know _everything_.” She punctuated her sentence with an ominous jiggling of the locked door handle.

Sarah balked and looked at Jareth. He shrugged noncommittally and Sarah numbly moved to unlock the door.

Sarah’s stepmom entered the room in an angry flourish and Toby sulked in after her—Sarah guessed he’d been chewed out about _something_.

Despite the early hour, Sarah’s stepmom looked the same to Sarah as she’d always looked, dressed finely and neatly, her hair pulled up into a deceptively simple twist. Every time Sarah came home to visit her family, she was always surprised to see that the years didn’t seem to touch her stepmom, her face only showing the tiniest of lines.

“Jareth,” she said authoritatively, “What have you gotten my children involved in?”

He looked at her for what seemed like hours before Sarah caught a spark of recognition in his eyes. He smiled, a grin that twisted up one corner of his mouth and showed one sharp incisor. 

“Nice to see you,” he said, “Karen, is it?”

“Actually, it’s _Irene_ ,” she replied, imperious as ever. Irene and Jareth gave each other long looks, sizing each other up as some silent conversation passed between them. 

Sarah looked to Toby to see if he knew what was going on, but he just shrugged. Apparently Irene had wrung answers out of Toby without giving any in return.

“Can you hide the book?” Jareth asked and Irene nodded. He plucked the book out of Sarah’s hands, ignoring her protests, and handed it over to Irene.

“Protect this house,” he said to her before turning to Sarah, “We need to leave. _Now_.”

“I can’t go out like this!” Sarah gestured at her pajama bottoms and Rush tee. Jareth rolled his eyes and with a snap, she was wearing the jeans and purple fair isle sweater from the day before.

“Well, you can’t look like that,” Sarah said to Jareth.

“What’s wrong with the way I look?”

Irene answered for Sarah. “You look like you fell out of a bad 80s music video.”

He frowned as the Williams women nodded in agreement.

Sarah blinked and Jareth’s typical loose shirt and breeches were replaced by a white button-up, open at the collar, and dark skinny jeans. He took Sarah’s backpack and small carryon suitcase, magically packed and ready to go as Irene handed Sarah her purse. 

“Be careful,” Irene whispered in Sarah’s ear as she held her close, “There is a time to be curious and a time to be safe. Now is the time to be safe.” Suddenly Sarah knew that the last voice in her dream had been Irene’s. She pulled back and looked for answers in Irene’s face, but her expression was an unreadable mask.

Toby hugged Sarah next, only pulling back when Irene touched his shoulder. “Say goodbye to dad for me,” she said to her stepmom.

Thunder boomed from somewhere nearby and it shook the window and the mirror. The sky was dark with heavy rainclouds—when had the storm rolled in?

“Sarah,” Jareth said, standing in her doorway, “it’s time to go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stop thinking about this story after I finished the first part. I originally intended to end the story in this part, but I decided the ending I'd given the characters was too easy so I had to change things. 
> 
> Part three to come soon!


End file.
